Pretty Boys are Dangerous
by StubblePrince
Summary: KisaIta drabble; oneshot. Kisame lays in bed with Itachi and realizes just how different he acts around his partner.


Itachi is pretty.

That's one truth Kisame won't deny, even if Itachi himself would brush it off.

He lay with the Uchiha in bed, the sky crackling and roaring with a storm. Every flicker of lightning illuminates the room from its darkened state, and Itachi's features come into focus sharply for a moment before fading out again. Despite the darkness, Kisame can still make out his half-lidded eyes, hazy and unfocused from sleepiness and overuse of his Sharingan.

Tonight, the Uchiha's eyes are a warm black, and they follow Kisame's movements as his hand comes up to card through Itachi's hair, working out the few, if any, knots. He takes the other's lack of protest a good sign, and runs his thumb across the other's temple, before yet again returning to his ministrations.

These are the only times that he's truly gentle, Kisame realizes, and chuckles lightly. His hand pauses in Itachi's hair and the other's brows furrow in response.

"Why are you laughing?" he mumbles, his voice just as soft as Kisame's laughter had been. When the other's hand resumes its motion in his hair, he seems to settle down again, his features smoothing and eyes closing at the comforting gesture.

"Nothing important. Now hush."

"You know I don't like taking orders, Kisame."

The older man can detect the faint hint of joking in Itachi's tone, though, and it only provokes another bout of chuckling.

"You need to rest," he answers, placing a light kiss on Itachi's forehead. He grins when he realizes he won't protest, obviously finding truth in Kisame's words.

It was quiet between them for a while after that, the silence only punctuated by brief claps of thunder or the occasional rustle of sheets as they moved around to get comfortable. Kisame is barely paying attention to the outside world at this point, content to muse by himself and play with Itachi's hair, twirling the soft locks around his fingers. And, judging by Itachi's relaxed attitude, he was okay with it.

Sometime during his musings, though, their hands had become entwined and the shark-like man found himself gingerly kissing each digit of Itachi's fingers, lips brushing over the pads, the bony knuckles. He couldn't stop this form of worship even when Itachi opened his eyes to watch with mild curiosity, or when it migrated from more than just his fingers.

Yes, Itachi is pretty, _beautiful_, and pretty boys like him turned people to mush.

And Kisame is no exception.

He sighs lightly through his nose, supporting himself with one arm as he continues to pepper gentle kisses all over the other's body, having already kissed from his hand up to his shoulder. His lips brush over a rather recent hickey on Itachi's neck and the Uchiha only tilts his head to open up more skin. Kisame figures Itachi is expecting him to do more, but he just can't find it in himself, for once. The bigger man only kiss the bruised skin before he moves on, moves lower.

He's probably being much too soft, he realizes between kissing each collarbone. Kisame can't bear the thought to be anything else right now, however. Not when Itachi looks so frail and tired with each passing moment.

A loud clap of thunder jars Kisame from his thoughts, and a soft tug on his hair pulls him from Itachi's chest.

"…Kisame."

"Yeah?" Even now, he can't keep his hands off the other; already, his fingertips are skimming along the palm of the Uchiha's hand, gaze locked onto the other's tired and unfocused one.

"You've about kissed me to death, I believe. You should take your own advice and rest. It's late." Kisame begrudgingly lays down on the bed again after a little coaxing from his partner, who promptly presses himself closer.

It's a silent invitation for Kisame to cuddle him, and he has a sneaking suspicion that that's what Itachi wanted all along.

Nonetheless, he gladly wraps his arm around the raven-haired man and pulls him close, planting a kiss on the top of his head. "Night, Itachi."

"Goodnight."

While Itachi slowly drifts off to the sound of thunder and pouring rain, Kisame can only start to brush through his long hair with his fingers again, head atop the younger man's. He stares at a spot on the wall, thinking, _what have you done to me, Uchiha?_

Itachi is pretty.

And pretty boys are dangerous.


End file.
